


original sin

by silentterror



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief Mentions of Unsafe Kink, Depictions of Sacrilege, M/M, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shibari, Use of Safe Word, brief mentions of internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentterror/pseuds/silentterror
Summary: Yuta couldn’t understand how or why someone would want to devote their whole lives to a belief system. After meeting Mark, and being on the receiving end of his devotion, he thought he might finally understand it.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	original sin

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags before reading. If you have any qualms about reading sexualized religious imagery, **do not read.**

Yuta was everything Mark was not. He was not religious. He wasn’t the type you’d bring home to mom. He was a bad boy with piercings and tattoos to match the sharp look in his cat-like eyes. He followed his gut and his dreams like it was nothing but following the path in the forest. He willingly chose to be who he wanted to be in life, while Mark followed what he was told he _should_ be. 

Yuta was also everything Mark was not supposed to fall in love with. Largely because he was a man, but Mark moved past that pretty quick. Growing up, his best friend and the priest’s son, Johnny, was gay. They kissed a couple of times, but Johnny stopped talking to him when Mark told him that what they were doing was wrong. That they were going to Hell for it, Johnny’s dad said so. 

He loved Johnny, he wanted to protect him, he wanted to save his soul from eternal damnation. But Johnny looked at him like he ripped his heart out and never turned back when he walked away.

Looking back, Mark thinks he gets it. Johnny was the reason he was able to fall in love with Yuta so easily. Mark wondered if he was that person to Johnny as well.

  
  
  


Mark struggled to fall in love with Yuta not because he was a man, but because he was not a Catholic. He walked with a lightness in his step of a man who did not know he would be suffering and tortured after death. At least Johnny knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Johnny knew they were wrong and accepted that; he still was who he was despite the damnation.

But Yuta didn’t know, or at least he wouldn’t admit to it. He didn’t believe in Hell and therefore didn’t believe he would be punished for his actions.

He didn’t understand how big of a deal it was that Mark was willing to accept his demise, his punishment, just to be with Yuta.

Mark tried to teach him, tried to show him how much it meant that he was willing to love the older man. How much it meant that he was willing to turn his devotion from his faith to devotion in the soft touches and sweet kisses.

He was still a devout Catholic, and always would be, but he was also Yuta’s lover, boyfriend, companion. He would love him with the same intensity that he loved God. He would worship him and sing his praises the same way he would for God.

  
  
  


Mark often found himself on his knees, a natural position from years of praying, bent over an altar or his bed. Yuta was constantly teaching him new ways to love, new ways to worship, new ways to praise. 

He would whine and cry– begging and praying to Yuta and God that he could come, that he could reach a climax, but Yuta was the Devil in disguise and would make him wait. He would drag it out, have Mark screaming his adoration and praise.

  
  
  


Yuta learned Mark’s body quickly. He was always just taking and taking as Mark sang his praise; returning the worship in the form of corruption, on his knees and teaching Mark new ways to worship God. Mark would hum hallelujah as he came down Yuta’s throat. His cross necklace sticking to his sweaty body as his chest heaved with the exertion.

Yuta started to use everything he could to tear Mark down; tying him up in the shape of crucifixion, arms splayed out and one leg bent upward. Mark found a thrill in being restrained in a similar manner to how Jesus was punished. It felt like a physical punishment for his own sins, prior to his damnation.

He‘d feel like he’d ascended to Heaven as he was torn apart and rebuilt from the inside out, though. As Yuta took Mark’s praises to God; his praises to Yuta.

Yuta felt like _he’d_ ascended to Heaven when Mark looked up at him with tears in his eyes and said, “If this is what going to Hell feels like, then I think I’ll be ok with that.”

  
  
  


“Would you sell your soul if it was the only way to be with me?” Yuta asked when the haze of post-orgasm hit him and washed away his brain to mouth filter. He was laying on his back, Mark cradled against his chest. The cross around Mark’s neck felt like a heavy weight against his own skin. But it wasn’t his cross to bear; it was Mark’s. All Yuta could do was be there to catch him when the weight became too much.

“I already have,” Mark responded, his eyes still closed as he stretched his limbs out.

Yuta wanted to laugh. He wanted to say that it was ridiculous. Souls aren’t tangible things that can be sold or traded or lost; if they even existed. It was purely a joke of a question, a rhetorical question he was only putting a small amount of thought into. He mildly regretted asking.

Yuta wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. Because he knew Mark was being sincere. So he pulled the boy closer and kissed the crown of his head.

He knew Mark genuinely thought he sold his soul when he got with Yuta. He genuinely believed he would go to Hell because of his choice in partner. Because of his love. Because of _Yuta._

A possessive side swelled within Yuta as he thought about it. Mark gave up his love for his faith to have his love for Yuta. He still worshiped, still believed, but he chose Yuta nonetheless. He chose Yuta despite the eternal damnation. Yuta was enough to make him want to suffer for lifetimes to come.

  
  
  


Weeks later, Yuta presented Mark with a gift for Christmas. Pretty red rope with tiny beads entwined within the strands. It was made in the imitation of a rosary, but not meant for serious Shibari play; the beads posed a danger to pressure points.

It was purely decorative rope that he had made custom for the man he loved dearly. He wanted to give Mark the freedom of power. The freedom to be everything he wanted to be.

Mark sobbed that night as his hands were tied in a prayer position with the imitation of a rosary. He clasped his hands together tightly and sang his praises as Yuta fucked into his mouth. He sang like he did in the choir the night before at midnight mass. 

How many years did he feel tied up because of his rosaries? How many years did he feel restrained because of his faith?

Yet there he was, physically restrained by something made in the very image of his faith and more turned on than he could dream of. It was sacrilegious. It was taking something he loved and cared about and making it something vile and explicit. But it was ok. It was ok because he also loved and cared about Yuta. Possibly even more than he did for God, but that was a hard thing to admit. 

It almost felt freeing to feel the physical restraint of his faith tugging at his skin. So many years had gone by where he felt that restraint cloying at him from beneath his skin. He didn’t have doubts in his faith, but he had doubts in himself. They turned out to be true if his devotion to Yuta was anything to go by. He was easily swayed from God’s path. The restraint under his skin was just an attempt to hold him back from falling to the wind trying to throw him off. 

Mark came untouched when Yuta came in his mouth. The man above him was praising him, worshiping him, despite the fact Mark was the one on his knees. 

  
  
  


Yuta always made him feel like he was more than human; more than his religion. He was capable of being loved despite his wrong doings. Despite the sins he was committing everyday, every night they spent together. 

  
  
  


When the rare day they both had off came about, it was a Sunday, ironically enough. The day of worship. Yuta made good use of their day of rest and worship. He wasn’t going to let a day off slip by him without taking full advantage.

He tied Mark up again, the younger finding freedom in complete restriction. He didn’t want to have to think about moving. He didn’t want to have to think about making a choice. In a way it was from fear, a way of running away. He could always argue that he didn’t choose to do what was happening; he was tied up and didn’t argue. 

He would never do that, though, because it was a lie. Mark always had a choice in what was happening. He was always made to believe he wasn’t in control, but he knew better. He knew Yuta would bow to his every wish and command, he just preferred to think he didn’t have a choice.

It was easier to accept his sins if he didn’t have to accept they were his entirely. 

  
  
  


“How do you think they’d punish you?” Yuta asked once he had Mark splayed out and restrained. His arms were held out beside him, his legs tied open. Mark wept at the question, his dick throbbing as Yuta repeatedly slammed into him. He cried a lot during sex, but he assured his boyfriend repeatedly it was purely due to overwhelming pleasure.

Sometimes Yuta had his doubts, but Mark had his safe word if things ever were Too Much.

Mark was still in remnants of his Sunday Best, pants pulled off and long forgotten, but he was still in his best shirt and tie.

He never missed church if he could help it. He prayed every night and before every meal. It was his own way of seeking repentance for the sins he committed everyday. He was always the perfect Catholic boy before he met Yuta. He tried to keep up the appearance, but there was only so much he could do when he turned his devotion to a man instead of God.

“Do you think they’d tie you up like I have you now? Torture you until you cry? Or would that be too pleasurable for Hell? Too much like what we do now? Do you think they’d tie you up and then torture me? Have you watch as they take me apart, painful or pleasurable. But always keeping me just out of your reach. Like Tantalus.”

Yuta continued to talk as he fucked into his boyfriend. This was how they played. He was always good at dirty talk, but he really had to learn to step up his game when he got with Mark. The normal _“such a slut”_ and _“_ _you’ve been a bad boy”_ wasn’t always quite _enough_ for Mark.

“Apple. Apple! _APPLE!”_ Mark cried suddenly, thrashing within his binds as he came sharply across his crisp white shirt.

There was a lot to unpack in the following minutes, but Yuta focused on immediately untying his lover and calming him down softly.

  
  
  


There was a level of irony not lost on Yuta that their safe word was that of the physical depiction of original sin. But it was Mark’s idea, so Yuta obliged, like he always did.

  
  
  


“You’re ok, angel,” Yuta whispered against rope indentations and flushed skin. “Let me get you cleaned up, then we’ll talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark kept whimpering as he was being manhandled into a more comfortable position. Yuta wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to. Himself, Yuta, or God.

After almost an hour of wiping down, cuddling, and shushing, Mark began to calm down, his breathing evening out. His natural color returned to his skin, the flush bleeding out as his heart rate slowed. 

“Ok, angel. We need to talk about what just happened.”

Mark safe worded at the exact moment that he came, talking was _definitely_ necessary.

This was the easy part for them. They talked a lot, even outside of sex. But talking about sex wasn’t always easy. Mark wasn’t originally forthcoming with things he liked or didn’t like. It resulted in a couple physical injuries, even, because he was concerned with safe wording and disappointing his lover– his focus of devotion. 

He’d already disappointed the original focus of his worship, he couldn’t do it again.

It took them a long time to do any scenes after that. Yuta was hurt that Mark didn’t seem to trust him enough to tell him when to stop and Mark was upset he disappointed his lover anyways.

They eventually started scenes again, but only with the promise of constant communication. If something happened they did or didn’t like, they had to talk about it. Yuta had to promise to hear it like a confessional, nonjudgmental and open, but eventually Mark agreed.

“Talk of Hell and punishment and all of that is fine. I like it even. Just..” Mark took a deep breath, almost crying again, hating himself for his own interests and for breaking the scene. “Not without you. Please don’t leave me. Even in Hell, don’t leave me.” Mark was crying by that point; full, body-shaking sobs.

“I won’t. I won’t ever leave you, angel,” Yuta whispered against tear tracked cheeks.

It was a big promise. One he probably couldn’t keep.

Commitment was hard for Yuta– something he didn’t normally do. But Mark gave him a level of devotion he had reserved solely for his faith; the least Yuta could do was offer him commitment. Sure, he was committed to Mark in the sense that they were monogamously dating, but Yuta often felt like he had one foot out the door. He didn’t want to feel that way, but it was the fear of a future, fear of commitment that did it to him. 

  
  
  


His fear of commitment was why he never truly got into a religion. He couldn’t understand how or why someone would want to devote their whole lives to a belief system. After meeting Mark, and being on the receiving end of his devotion, he thought he might finally understand it.

  
  
  


Yuta struggled to show what he truly meant sometimes. So, he did the only thing he could think of and got a tattoo. Tattoos were the one form of commitment he never shied away from. They were pieces of others that were permanently left on his body, but he was ok with that.

He added a snake to his collection of art. A dark green, majestic thing, winding its way from the top of Yuta’s shoulder down to his wrist. He told Mark it was just because he thought snakes looked cool, but he suspected Mark understood the true meaning. 

He got it because it was the only piece of Mark’s religion he felt connected to, the only thing he felt akin to.

The snake was the original tempter. Not the temptation itself, but the talker who planted the seed of temptation in Eve’s mind.

Yuta was very much like the snake. He was the one who planted the seed of corruption and temptation into Mark’s mind. He was the one who had to deal with the fall out from Mark’s religious crisis.

But he was committed to it. He was committed to Mark and being there every step of the way. He was the snake that planted the temptation, but he was also the tree that offered support. He had roots down strong and fast and would be there to stave off any wind that would come Mark’s way. He was the only one allowed to tempt Mark. Mark was his disciple now and he would love and protect him as long as Mark was willing to love and worship him in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> I greatly apologize for any inaccuracies of my depiction of Catholicism. I did the best I could with research and the knowledge I have from being raised by a Catholic Mother.
> 
> This idea came to me like wildfire. I wrote half of it while hiding at work and then quickly decided I needed to properly rewrite it.
> 
> I hope you guys liked it. You can yell at me here
> 
> | [twt](https://twitter.com/whinienini) |  
> | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/whinielixie) |


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